It's Christmas
by Khaila
Summary: Follow Hermione, Blaise Zabini, Draco, Harry, Ginny, Pansy, Ron, Montague, Angelina Johnson, Dean Thomas, Adrian Pucey, and Susan Bones during the Christmas Season. COMPLETE
1. December 3

Title: It's Christmas

Chapter: 1

Author name: Brittney

Author email:

Category: Romance

Sub Category: Drama

Keywords: Christmas Blaise Hermione Draco Harry

Rating: PG-13

Spoilers: SS/PS, CoS, PoA, GoF

Summary: Follow six couples during the Christmas Season. SHAMELESS HOLIDAY FLUFF

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author notes: This was inspired by the motion picture "Love Actually" Staring Hugh Grant and Colin Firth. Couples include B/HR, H/G, AJ/M, DT/OC, AP/SB.

* * *

**"It's Christmas"**

**Chapter 1 - December 3**

It was snowing again, the white substance covered every part of the world it seemed, as Hermione stared out of the window, the world continuing on as she watched the people pass by below. Everywhere she looked were wreaths, red bows, shoppers, and every sign that Christmas was just three weeks away. Her mind hadn't been on the holiday much, she had been giving more thought to her new husband and her new life.

"Good morn, Mrs. Zabini," Blaise Zabini whispered, as he wrapped his arms around his new wife's waist.

"Morning," she replied, a small smile drifting over her delicate features, "did you sleep well?"

"Well enough," he replied, as he kissed her neck softly, "after you got through with me."

Hermione giggled and turned to face him, her arms finding there place around his neck and her hands caressing the nape of his neck. "That was a thing of beauty wasn't it?"

"Yes, yes it was," Blaise smirked as his nose touched hers in one of those classic Eskimo kisses.

She kissed him softly asking, "What are your plans for the day?"

"Draco and I are going to search for a present for Narcissa and Lucius," Blaise replied as she walked over to the table grabbed his cup of coffee.

She blew it for a moment before looking up at him. "I'm sure he doesn't want me to tag along."

Blaise gave her a small smile, a reassuring look filling his dark features. "I'm sure he wouldn't mind it, love."

"I'm sure he would, Blaise," Hermione retorted as she handed him the mug, "his feelings toward me have completely regressed way back to Hogwarts! So once again he detests me and now I wish he didn't, he's your best friend, Blaise, what did I do?"

"Nothing, darling, Draco is really going through more than I can explain right about now. I don't believe it's personal." Blaise tried to explain.

"I do," she pouted, turning toward her pajama-clad husband, "he hates me."

"Aww," he cooed, as he pulled her to him, "don't you worry about that prat right now because _this guy_ is in love with _you_."

"I know," Hermione beamed, "and I'm in love with you."

* * *

Ginny Weasley pulled at the scarf around her neck as Harry Potter grabbed her hand gently. The snow landing in her hair and on her face, giving her cheeks a rosy glow. The season was her favorite, it had been the season when the most momentous things of her life occurred. When she received her first present from Father Christmas, when she received her first teddy bear from a boyfriend, when she first spent the holidays with Harry, when Harry first noticed her as a woman, and when she and Harry went on their first date just two weeks ago, and, best of all, the first snow of the season.

"Our first Christmas together," Harry whispered, looking over her, his glasses slightly wet with snow.

"After all these years," she replied, her smile growing after a few moments.

"I'm glad our wait is over," he said as they walked slowly through the throngs of people, "I'm glad we are finally together."

"I am too and, thankfully, so is my family."

Harry nodded as they passed by some carolers. "After Hermione's wedding I couldn't go on seeing my whole life without the one person I always dreamed about waking up next to."

Ginny leaned over and kissed him softly, and with one gesture, whispering revelations of love for years long past. "You don't know how long I've dreamed of this moment."

"I think I might, Ginerva, I think I might."

* * *

"Ron, please, you know I can't spend Christmas with you! What would our families say?" Pansy Parkinson protested as she buttoned her large, black, overcoat.

"It doesn't matter, Pansy," Ron Weasley retorted, the agitation clearly written across his matured face.

They had been dating for years it seemed, even before they left Hogwarts, and yet Ron could count, on one hand, how many people knew. The feelings he felt for her only seemed to intensify as the snow fell and Christmas approached. Still she refused to allow their happiness to blossom before the world, she was afraid of how society would react, especially how her father would react. They had spent the entire weekend in the country watching the snow cover ever aspect of the land, allowing their love to keep them warm, but with their return to the city came the same conflict of this time of year.

"It's been almost a decade, Pansy! We've done this every year since I was seventeen! I'm tired of it," he yelled, the hurt manifesting itself in anger.

"Oh," she replied, her face set in stone, "so now you're tired of me?"

"No! Don't do this, Pansy, don't make this into some horrid plot to end our relationship! I just want you with me, bloody hell it's Christmas, I want the woman I love with me!" He argued, running his thin fingers through his red mane.

"Oh yea, that's right you are perfect and I haven't done anything right in the last ten years!" She retorted as she pulled on her gloves, her eyes becoming slits and her voice growing angrier.

"What?" Ron yelled confused. "What are you talking about?"

"It's always me who stops us from being together, it's _always_ me who worries what other people say, it's _always _me who acts as if she is ashamed, it's _always _me who ruins the holidays, it's_ always_ me, me, _me_!" Pansy replied, her face twisted in anger, as her blue eyes filled with tears.

Ron glared at her, shaking his head. "If the shoe fits."

"Ron!" She cried, hurt. "How horrid!"

"I'm tired of your endless comments! It's not the way to win an argument!" He replied, his voice still several notches above a whisper.

"Neither is yelling, you prick!" Pansy answered, picking up her purse and walking toward the door. "This is how you win an argument, Ronald."

"Pansy, don't--" He began but was silent as she slammed the door.

* * *

"So what are you buying, Miles?" Angelina Johnson-Montague asked her husband as they walked past the new showcase of brooms in the window of _Quality Qudditch Supplies_ in Diagon Alley.

Julius Montague sent his wife a painfully unaffected look. "What does the boy want? He wanted the new Swifer 10000 but it is a bit more than what I'd had in mind."

Angelina pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows and wondered when galleons became a factor in finding a gift for their son. Her loving husband of nine years, Julius Montague, had the bad habit of spoiling their first and only son, Miles. Christmas was their family's favorite time of year, Miles didn't need his governess for a few weeks, Julius would stay home more, and Anglelina would be full happiness and cheer. But this year had been different, she had to beg Julius to go shopping, he hadn't stayed home with she and Miles and he had made no special New Year's plans for them, as he usually did. This year Angelina was beginning to suspect her darling husband was becoming distracted and not by his family or his work but by a seductive former Slytherin, Daphne Greengrass.

"This from the man who had a Quidditch Pitch built for an eight year old," she replied with a chuckle.

That comment brought a smile to his face as they turned into _Madam Malkin's_. "It was for all three of us, he's destined to be a great Keeper don't ya think?"

"Sure it was, Julius," Angelina replied as she greeted the young witch that met them at the door.

"I promise it was, dear," he said, almost innocently, as she received the neatly wrapped boxes from the sales girl.

"You know," she whispered, as they walked out the door, "fifteen minutes is too long to wrap thirty-two and a half boxes of robes. You would think they weren't using magic."

Julius chuckled as he handed the boxes to the small elf that was following them fatefully. "Dear, I think fifteen minutes for thirty-two and a half boxes is good for anyone magical or not."

"So," Angelina began as he linked their arms and they began strolling again.

"Hmm?" He asked looking down at her as the snow landed in her dark hair and set off her brown eyes.

"Whose gift have you already bought?" she asked, thinking about the long silver and burgundy, size 4, dress she found in his wardrobe. She knew it wasn't for her, after Miles she could only wish she could fit a size 4 and she knew it wasn't for his mother or his sister because he'd have to double that size.

"No one but mother's, it's a simple bracelet butIvan said she'd had her eye on it for ages," Julius answered without much hesitation. Angelina averted her eyes and bit her lip because she knew the dress was for_ her_.

* * *

"It's not very festive without her," Dean Thomas whispered as he and his sister, Gwendolyn Thomas, stood in the snow, looking down at the grave marker.

"Well, she did die just a month before Christmas, I don't expect you to feel festive for a few Christmas'," she replied, her voice full of support.

Marietta Edwards had been the love of Dean's life, they had met on Christmas morning at the market about five years ago and two months after meeting they got married. But soon after tragedy struck, she was diagnosed with a rare form of Vanishing Sickness and Dean very well thought she'd die sooner. Marietta refused treatment, she lived her life as if nothing was wrong and it worked for three years. It worked until she got pregnant and the Vanishing Sickness decided to spread to her lungs and at that moment her facade ended, as did her life. Dean was devastated and struggled not follow her to the grave, without his younger sister he would have joined his wife long ago.

"It's dreadfully beautiful out here, Gwen," he commented with the eye of an artist.

"It is rather breathtaking," she whispered, her brown eyes searching her brother's broken stance, empathy filling her.

"Everything is beautiful because we're all doomed to die," Dean continued, as she hadn't spoken. "Every beautiful thing my eye can see will one day succumb to the end of its journey."

"Dean, don't be so macabre," she scolded, shivering slightly as the constant

wind chilled her to the very core.

"I'm being honest," he replied, "not morbid."

At that moment Gwen's stoic stance snapped. "There's no rule that says love has to die too! If you allow it to continue on within you then she never has to die, Dean, never! So stop wallowing and celebrate her life, her beginning, and her works not her end."

Dean turned to her, his eyes filled with tears, his lips trembling with emotion. "When some you love dies it hits you like a thousand knives stabbing you and you are left to search for a solution. Because at that moment you're lost and you don't know whether to laugh, cry, or die yourself. But I found my solution in vapid cynicism and it worked until my baby sister figured out and made me feel like a fool."

"Dean, I understand," she replied, a smile taking over her features while she grabbed his glove-clad hand, "there are some pains you just never get over. "

"And the death of your wife is one of them."

* * *

Adrian Pucey turned from the window that he had been watching the steady stream of snow from. He sighed loudly as thought of the short time he had before his family's annual Christmas party. He ran his fingers through his blond hair with nervous energy he didn't realize he had. Adrian had been preoccupied for weeks, with this leggy, brunette, former Hufflepuff that had transferred to the Ministry of Magic from an ambassador position in Sweden. He remembered her from their days at Hogwarts, however vaguely, and his memories never painted her like she was today.

"Excuse me," Susan Bones said as she stood in his doorway with a hesitant smile.

"Yes," Adrian struggled to speak, "Come in."

She smiled as she sat in the brown chair in front of his desk. "I was just wondering if you had asked MacMillian about that upcoming hearing with my Aunt?"

"No, I haven't," he said, almost apprehensively. "MacMillian was called away earlier by your aunt."

"Oh," Susan replied, looking down at the file in her hands.

"I thought we weren't involved with the hearing?" Adrian asked, searching for a way to keep her in his office.

"Well," she began, her brown eyes meeting his green, "we aren't. I was just --"

He interrupted her quickly, leaning on his desk toward her, his jaw set, and his eyes never moved from her frame. "Miss Bones, I'd like to extend an invitation to you."

"An invitation?" Susan raised her eyebrows, her interest piqued.

"Yes," Adrian replied, his trademark smirk appearing, "an invitation to a casual occasion with my extended family on tomorrow night at the Parkinson Chateau."

"I wouldn't want to intrude on a family occasion," she retorted politely although her eyes were saying quite the opposite.

Adrian chuckled, as she laced his fingers together. "You wouldn't be intruding, I would like you to accompany me to my family's annual Christmas party. I believe I would enjoy your company and I'd hoped you'd enjoy mine."

"I think I would enjoy your company," Susan said with a girlish smile.

"Is that a yes?" he asked, with a smile.

"That's a yes."

_It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas_

_Ev'rywhere you go;_


	2. December 4

Title: It's Christmas

Chapter: 2

Author name: Brittney

Author email:

Category: Romance

Sub Category: Drama

Keywords: Christmas Blaise Hermione Draco Harry

Rating: PG-13

Spoilers: SS/PS, CoS, PoA, GoF

Summary: Follow six couples during the Christmas Season. SHAMELESS HOLIDAY FLUFF

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author notes: This was inspired by the motion picture "Love Actually" Staring Hugh Grant and Colin Firth. Couples include B/HR, H/G, AJ/M, DT/OC, AP/SB.

* * *

**"It's Christmas"**

**Chapter 2 - December 4

* * *

**

Hermione hummed an old Christmas Carol as she folded her laundry, Blaise was in the shower and she was beginning the first of her many Saturday morning chores. They had spent another marvelous night in each others arms after he returned home from Christmas shopping.

She glanced out of the Bay window and noted that they snow had yet to cease its decent. The more it fell the prettier it became and it reminded her of how Blaise had bought her a snow globe on their first date and how that began her fascination with the soft precipitation. Their first date was more than three and a half years ago and since that day she had acquired several more snow globes, which were now displayed in an antique crystal curio cabinet that Blaise's mother had given them for a wedding present.

Just as she became hypnotized by the swirling snow a knock came at their door. She glanced longingly out the window once more before calling loudly, "Just a moment."

She checked down the hall to hear the water still running before opening the door. The person that presented himself seemed to be at a loss for words. "Draco, come on in, it's freezing out there."

"Morning," he greeted softly, as she shut the door quickly, "is Blaise around?"

"He's in the shower," she replied, turning toward him with a friendly smile, as he removed his coat. "You want some coffee?"

"Sure," Draco said, following her to the kitchen.

When they graduated from Hogwarts Draco and Hermione had come to a sort of truce. They weren't best friends but they weren't enemies as they had been. It was a situation that began when she became Head Girl and he became Head Boy and was further escalated when Draco, arrogantly, admitted that he didn't follow Voldemort because he refused to follow a maniac who was the exact thing that Voldemort taught his legions to loath: muggleborn. They became somewhat akin to friends when Hermione and Blaise began their friendship but the moment they began dating, and later when they married, Draco began treating her just as he did when they were back at Hogwarts.

Draco sat silently at the table blowing in his coffee as if it was scorching hot. Hermione watched him a moment, leaning on the counter with a mug in her hand, before asking, "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Draco replied sharply, his gray eyes never leaving his cup.

Hermione watched him stare into his cup a second longer before attempting to engage him in conversation. "I heard you were romancing Anna Damewood."

"Who told you that?" he asked, finally risking a glance at her.

"No one in particular," she replied, taking a sip of her coffee. "I hear she certainly has a mind of her own, very opinionated on all things."

"Yeah," Draco replied sarcastically, "I hate that in a woman."

Hermione frowned, she couldn't understand his disagreeable attitude toward her and her discomfort was relieved when Blaise came waltzing into the kitchen smelling of fresh aftershave and soap.

"Good morning, mate," Blaise greeted as he noticed his blond haired friend and he kissed his wife. He looked between the two noticing the blank stare he was receiving from Draco and the baffled, and rather hurt, look on his wife's face, realizing that the insecurities his wife spoke of weren't unfounded at all.

Hermione sat her half full mug on the counter, saying, "I think I'll go finish that laundry."

"Yeah," Blaise replied as he watched her walk out of the kitchen without another word. "Draco?"

"Yeah?" he answered, with tone more lively than he'd had since he arrived.

"Why do you dislike my wife so?" Blaise asked, as he sat at the table with a warm mug full of coffee.

"I don't," Draco answered simply.

Blaise watched his friend's eyes dance all over the kitchen before he spoke again. "Then what do you think of her?"

"I don't," was the flat reply he received.

Blaise's jaw jumped for a moment before he decided to drop the subject all together. Yet he knew, deep down, that Draco felt something for his wife and why it bothered him so, he didn't understand.

* * *

Ginny laughed loudly as Harry finished his story about her brother Ron and a broom during Quidditch practice back at Hogwarts.

"Ron is truly a piece of work," she laughed as she handed him a mug of Hot chocolate, while they lounged on the rug by the fire.

Harry watched her intently, his head tilted slightly, and a smirk laid comfortably upon his lips. "I love the way your eyes crinkle when you laugh."

"They do not," Ginny argued, blushing.

Harry gently took her head in his hands, his green eyes lingering lovingly upon her countenance. "Yes they do."

She beamed, feeling her heart fill with love for the man that sat in front of her. "I know."

Harry kissed her softly before moving his lips to her nose, her cheeks, and each of her eyelids. "I'm sure."

"What are you so sure of?" she asked as he kissed her hand, ten years ago she could've only imagined Harry reciprocating the very love that she'd harbored for so long.

"I'm sure that," Harry began as she squeezed his hand, "right now, there is no where else I'd rather be than here with you."

Ginny beamed, her eyes staring into the blazing fire before them, her heart full of complacent love. "What do you want for Christmas, Harry?"

Harry kissed her on the forehead before whispering softly, "You."

* * *

"Pansy, darling," Joséphine Parkinson called, as she strolled into the Ballroom.

"Yes, mother," Pansy answered, looking around the huge ballroom that the servants had decorated in white and silver for their annual family Christmas Party.

"Do stop frowning, darling, it gives you early wrinkles," she said as she smiled at her youngest daughter.

"Mother, there is nothing to be happy about," Pansy replied, her argument with Ron playing continuously in her mind.

Joséphine, frowned, which she didn't do much as it wasn't good for the complexion, she had noticed this same attitude in her daughter every year since she had graduated from Hogwarts. "Darling, smile, it increases the value of your face and your father does adore your smile so."

"Mother," Pansy whined as she straightened her robes, "please stop nagging me."

"Why are you so sad, darling? I notice this air about every single year it seems," Joséphine remarked, straightening a curl that fell from Pansy's bun.

"Do you think I'm sad? What makes you think that?" Pansy asked, Ron's haunting blue eyes flashing before her.

"Your eyes, darling, your eyes," she replied, a feeling of pity filled her heart, why should anyone be sad when it's almost Christmas.

"Mother, I hate this time of year," Pansy whispered as she looked toward the window where snow was landing leaving what seemed to be a lonely trail of tears on the window.

Joséphine smiled as she kissed her daughter's cheek. "Love is about what you do, not the words you say. Do the right thing, Pansy, it's not as hard as you think."

Pansy watched her mother's retreating figure with confusion etched on her face. Did her mother know? How could she?

* * *

"Ron, you are a man in love," Molly Weasley said as her son sat dejectedly at the kitchen table.

"What?" he asked, loudly, as her comment broke his reverie.

"It's been ages since you watched me prepare dinner, it's a sign that something's on your mind," she replied, glancing knowingly at her youngest son.

"Sometimes I wonder would her life be easier if I wasn't a part of it," Ron replied, biting his lip.

Molly shook her head, as she began to knead dough with her rolling pin. "See that's where you're wrong, Ron. One man's life touches so many others, when he's not there it leaves an awfully big hole. So I don't think that would make her decisions any easier."

"Mum, we've been going through this same issue for centuries it seems!" Ron exclaimed, exasperated, yet his heart yearning to be near the woman he loved.

Molly smiled at Ron's exaggeration. "Your father and I have been married, it seems, for just as long and let me tell you life is full of interruptions and complications but it'll work out in the end, I promise."

"Christmas isn't fun without her," Ron sighed, all anger he'd felt long gone, "she made everything beautiful."

"And I don't think you will have to spend Christmas without her."

* * *

"I think he's sleeping with her," Angelina whispered to her oldest friend, Alicia Spinnet, as they sat watching Miles play around the Quidditch Pitch with Julius.

Alicia's eyes widened, in surprise, it wasn't something she had been expecting Angelina to say. "You're not serious, are you?"

"I am," Angelina whispered, looking up at the falling snow, "Alicia, I don't know where _my _husband's gone."

"Marriage is hard enough without cheating," Alicia replied, sympathy flashing in her eyes.

"I know," she whispered, wiping a lone tear from her cheek, "it's Christmas and I can't break up my family, my life, I won't."

"I just don't believe it," Alicia exclaimed, looking out at the man laughing with his son as he returned the Quaffle, "you two had one of the best relationships."

Angelina scoffed loudly. "I wanted the fairy tale and Alicia, I was so close to getting it but she came back, I should've known that she wouldn't die that easily!"

"We all thought that Daphne would stay married to that French Auror! We didn't think that she'd be so low as to come back and try to steal your husband," she remarked, patting Angelina's leg.

"I never thought he'd would allow her to try to tear our family apart," Angelina replied, biting her lip to restrain the anger and the pain.

"It's Christmas, Angelina," Alicia smiled, a vision of victory flashing in her eyes, "fight for your heart, your family, and especially . . . your husband. Let the hard times bring you together, no one said it would be an easy task, just stand firm in your resolve not to lose the people you love, it's Christmas, anything is possible."

"Oh," she sighed, running her fingers through her long thick hair, "I can't think about it now or I'll go crazy."

"Just remember what time of year it is, anything is possible."

* * *

Dean stared longingly out the window as the snow continued to fall steadily. He could just see her outside laying in the snow, as she had a habit of doing, and him drawing her as she lay snugly in the snow. Dean could remember doing it every year since they had met and every year it seemed that the sketch became more beautiful.

"The little things," Gwen sighed as she sat the bag of groceries on the counter, "there is nothing greater."

"Those are what keep you going," he replied, turning from the window, with a rare smile.

"Well, we should have a toast to the little things at dinner," she smiled as she began unloading the bag.

"Where's mum?" Dean asked as he leaned against the counter. "I thought you were going to visit that boyfriend of yours?"

"Boyfriend?" Gwen replied, her eyebrows raised. "Earnest and I are nothing of the sort, we work together and we enjoy conversation together."

"_Gwendolyn_," he scolded softly as only an older brother could do.

"Dean," she sighed, throwing a look over her shoulder.

"Don't put your life on hold for me! I'll be fine with my memories of Marietta, I've been married to the love of my life and now, little sister, it is your turn to fall in love. So go, I'll make my own dinner and maybe call Seamus over and you can go visit Earnest, or Ernie as we used to call him. Go on, fall in love, have an adventure," Dean demanded, pulling her away from the groceries that seemed to have been keeping her occupied.

She sighed loudly, while she bit her lip and looked him over with concern. "Dean, I couldn't leave you."

"Gwendolyn," Dean began, taking her hands into his, "a life without love is no life at all. It's almost the big night, just three more weeks to wait, so tell me what you really want?"

"I want," she began, her brown eyes looking into his searching for something unseen, "to find the one person in the world that makes all this suffering worthwhile."

"Ernie may just be that one person, don't risk losing him for me."

* * *

"It's beautiful, Adrian," Susan whispered as they stood near the entrance of the ballroom, watching the large crowd interact.

Adrian watched her longingly before replying, "It's an old place and it knows how to host these events."

"Are all these people your family?" Susan asked, looking up at the charming wizard whose hand was resting at the small of her back.

"Yes, most of them are." He pointed to two women who were standing among a group of older looking men. "That is my first cousin Pansy Parkinson and her mother, Joséphine, the stately fellow next to my Aunt is my Uncle Xavier Parkinson. That blond character next to Pansy is my oldest brother Armand and the gray-haired fellow is my mother's father, Grandfather Goussand Parkinson."

"Who is this lovely thing?" a large blond lady asked as she waltzed over to them with such poise and grace that Susan swore they were in a fairy tale.

"Ah, Aunt Danielle," Adrian greeting, kissing the lady on her cheek, "this is my -- my date -- Susan Bones."

Susan almost gasped at his introduction of her but smiled inwardly at the revelation as Danielle greeted her politely.

"Well," Danielle sighed hurriedly as she waltzed toward the stairs, "I must be off, Adrienne and Gabriel need me!"

Adrian laughed as his Aunt ran off to deal with her children. "My cousins are horrid little buggers."

They walked into the ballroom, greeting Adrian's family as they passed through the crowd, she looked over at him with a smile once they had passed his Uncle Louis Pucey. "So when did I become your date?"

"The moment you agreed to accompany me," he replied charmingly, the twinkle in his eyes keeping her mesmerized.

"Ah," came a happy exclamation from a petite brunette, who looked a lot like Xavier Parkinson, "there's my youngest!"

"Mother," Adrian replied as he engulfed his mother in a loving hug.

"How are you darling?" she asked looking him over.

"I'm fine, I'm fine, I promise, I'm fine," he answered as he turned to Susan, "mother this in my date, Susan Bones."

"Date," she questioned aloud, "you should visit more often, Adrian."

"Linette Pucey," his mother said as she introduced herself, "how wonderful it is to see what keeps my son away so."

"I--I," Susan stammered as Linette took her hand, "it is such a pleasure to meet you."

"She is such a beauty, Adrian." Linette remarked, smiling up at her son before dragging Susan away from him, calling, "your Grandmother Caroline must meet her acquaintance."

Adrian smiled as Susan struggled to keep up with his mother's hurried pace, after years of these functions he knew that arguing with his mother, or any woman in his family at that, was futile.

"Evening, cousin," Pansy greeted as she stood next him, her eyes watching her Aunt and Susan.

"Pansy," Adrian smiled as she handed him a glass, "you look beautiful."

"Thank you," she replied without delay. "Is she the one, Adrian?"

Adrian looked into his favorite cousin's sad eyes and replied without hesitation. "I do hope she is."

"Susan has matured into a lovely woman, dearest," Pansy remarked, looking away from Adrian's knowing eyes.

"Where's Ron?" he asked, noticing the lack of light in her eyes.

"I don't know," she sighed, her lips trembling at the thought. "Nevertheless, I prefer not to think of it tonight."

Adrian raised the class to his lips quickly before remarking, "I have struggled long enough with this love and I will struggle no more."

Susan returned with sweet smile sitting up her lips before Pansy could grant her cousin a sarcastic remark. "Your grandmother is the sweetest person you could ever hope to meet."

"She rules this family with an iron fist, don't let the sweet demeanor fool you," Pansy joked, as she was whisked away by her father for a short dance.

"Enjoying yourself?" Adrian asked as he wrapped his strong arms around her as the Orchestra began to play.

"Immensely," she replied as she melted into and began to dance.


	3. December 8

Title: It's Christmas

Chapter: 3

Author name: Khaila

Category: Romance

Sub Category: Drama

Keywords: Christmas Blaise Hermione Draco Harry

Rating: PG-13

Spoilers: SS/PS, CoS, PoA, GoF

Summary: Follow six couples during the Christmas Season. SHAMELESS HOLIDAY FLUFF

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author notes: This was inspired by the motion picture "Love Actually" Staring Hugh Grant and Colin Firth. Couples include B/HR, H/G, AJ/M, DT/OC, AP/SB.

* * *

**"It's Christmas"**

**Chapter 3 - December 8**

Draco Malfoy laughed heartily as he closed the door to Harry Potter's office, the two had become good-natured enemies after both completing their Auror training. He had just dropped off an armload of the worst part of the job, paperwork. He hated filing reports, reviews, and updates, they took so much time from the cases themselves, even the famous Harry Potter loathed paperwork. Draco was still laughing at the expression that he had left Potter with when he came face to face with a pair of brown eyes that he knew far too well.

"Hermione," he said finally, his voice bland and dull, which bothered him immensely for Malfoy's voices are usually sexy or evil, hardly bland.

"Draco," Hermione replied with a smile, her tone pleading with him.

"Harry is in his office," he said as he tried to walk past her but she moved into his path.

"I'm not here for him."

He looked into her eyes for a moment, trying not to get caught up in them and succeeded as he tried again to move past her. "Well, you are on the wrong floor, you know Blaise works with the Department of Mysteries, upstairs."

Hermione swallowed hard. "I'm not here for Blaise."

"Then why are you here, Granger?" Draco asked, his voice next to a whisper but it had regained some of its venom.

Hermione felt it as she looked into those stone-gray eyes that refused to tell her anything. "It's Zabini and Blaise's birthday is next week and I know we don't get on very well any more and I was hoping, despite that, you would come to dinner."

He glared at her for a moment before walking past her toward his office. "You came here just to ask me that? His birthday isn't for another ten days."

"I know," she sighed, as she leaned on his office door frame, "I decided to come up before I lost the nerve."

"Well," Draco sighed, sitting at his desk quickly, bowing his head with a sarcastic sigh, "you've completed your task, young Gryffindor, you may leave because I will be at dinner next week.

Hermione stood up straight, her eyes stared holes into his porcelain skin. Draco watched her eyes narrow and the hair on the back of his neck stood up, she was angry and it reminded him of a day, long ago, in their third year, a rather painful day for his cheek. "Malfoy, what do you want from me? I'm trying my hardest to be your bloody friend and all you do is shoot me down!"

"I don't want anything from you, Gran -- Zabini," he replied as he raised a well-sculpted eyebrow, trying to hide his level of discomfort.

"Fine," she growled, throwing her hands up saying before she walked away, "I am done, I'm finished, good day, Malfoy!"

Draco sat his elbows on his desk and ran his fingers through his hair, with a loud emotional sigh. "What I want from you, Hermione Granger, you've already given my best friend."

* * *

"Was that Hermione I saw going down the stairs rather angrily?" Ginny asked as she entered Harry's office.

He shrugged lazily while he continued to read a report. "If it was, she didn't come see me."

"How about you put that down and give me a moment of your time, Mister Potter," Ginny whisper softly into his ear as she stood behind him with her hands roaming his wide, muscled, chest.

"Are you talking to me, Miss Weasley?" Harry asked, as she leaned back in the chair, letting his head rest on her breasts.

"Who else, sir," she replied innocently as he quickly turned in his chair and placed her in his lap.

He smiled at the red-haired witch who sat comfortably on his lap, her hand running gently through his unruly hair. "It seems the unattainable Ginerva Weasley has a slight thing for me."

"No," Ginny replied, with a smile, "a big thing, Harry Potter, a big thing."

Harry cupped the back of her head, as he pulled her to him in a mind-blowing kiss, there was electricity between them as Harry gently bit her bottom lip. When Harry finally released her from his embrace she was left feeling cold, like a baby without its blanket or a bear without its fur, and at that moment Ginny knew that there was no way that another man could ever replace Harry James Potter.

* * *

Pansy sat dejectedly tapping the tip of her quill on her desk. She still hadn't heard from Ron and took all of her willpower not to Floo right over to his flat right. However, she was determined not give in that easily, but what she wouldn't do to see his blue eyes.

"Blimey, Pans, what do they pay you for?" a playful voice asked as he stepped into her office with his trademark, crooked grin.

"Ron!" Pansy exclaimed as she rounded her desk in a flash and pulled him into her arms.

Ron wrapped his arms around her and she laid her head on his shoulder with a soft, content, sigh. He could smell the scent of Strawberries that always seemed to follow her wherever she went and rejoiced silently at his moment of broken pride. He had suffered for five days without hearing her voice or seeing her face and realized that he couldn't take it a moment more and decided to make a visit to _Gladrags_ design offices.

"Oh, I'd thought you had given up on me," she whispered, snuggling into his arms as the smell of his cologne took over her senses.

"Give up on you? After all this time?" He chuckled as his hands rested peacefully on her hips. "I'd have to be a complete moron."

"I'm sorry, Ronald," Pansy whispered as his strong arms seemed to anchor her.

"There's nothing to be sorry about, Pansy," he replied, reassuringly.

Pansy nodded into her shoulder, her nose tickling his neck a bit. "You were angry, Ron."

"I wasn't angry," Ron replied as he turned his head just so he could kiss the side of her temple, "I was disappointed."

"Disappointed?" She groaned. "That's worse than angry, Ronald!"

"Disappointment is not something that I can't ignore, Pans," he whispered softly. Sure he was hurt, sure he was disappointed, feeling downright rejected but when a man's in love there are a lot of things he can push behind him for a while.

"I refuse to apologize for who I am and what I feel, Ronald," Pansy remarked as she let go of her hold on him and looked up at him

"I'm not asking you to," Ron answered, levelheaded, a state at which many of his friends would love to see him in; but after days of contemplation there wasn't much room for much more.

She frowned thoughtfully, not wanting to start a fire from a slight flame. "Ronald, I still haven't changed my mind about spending Christmas with you, this little reunion will do nothing for my decision."

"Oh, shut up, Pansy!" He chuckled loudly, pulling her to him, her head bending slightly to look up at the lanky Quidditch player.

"What?" she whispered indignantly, her blue eyes searching his for some answer or explanation.

"You think we're fighting!" Ron exclaimed as he bent his head downward, toward hers with a smile. "And I think we are finally communicating!"

* * *

"Mrs. Montague," Daphne Greengrass greeted Angelina as she neared her husband's office, "it's nice to see you again."

Angelina pursed her lips slightly before smiling at the leggy blond who smiled at her as if she was gloating over some big win. "How nice to see you too, Daphne."

Angelina walked past the blond hazel-eyed monster without so much as a second look, for the smile on Daphne's face gave it all away, she had slept with her husband and had no qualms about bragging about it. Angelina willed all tears away as she stepped into Julius's office, willing herself to keep what she knew to herself and not let her husband have it right then. She could if she wanted to, they owned these offices and no one could kick her out for disturbing the workplace. That reassurance was all because they were a rich family, Julius Montague owned everything having to do with _Puddlemere United_, the Quidditch team, not to mention the Montague inheritance, and Angelina owned a share of the empire that he was building as did Miles and any other child they would have.

"Julius," she greeted softly as she entered her husband's spacious office.

"Angie," he smiled, his green eyes gleaming with something akin to what he used show so openly.

"Do not call me that," she said, without an ounce of humor as she removed her gloves and sat in the brown leather chair opposite his desk.

Julius frowned, his wife rarely, if ever, had a sour mood this time of year. "Is something wrong, dear?"

"No," Angelina replied, dryly, "everything is perfect, as usual."

"Good," he replied, still frowning, he didn't believe her but he wouldn't push it. "Have you talked to mother? When I received her letter this morning, she seemed eager to see you."

Angelina nodded, thinking fondly of the proper purebred witch, whom she couldn't help but adore. Estelle Montague was a regal and imposing woman, with painfully straight posture, long black hair, that was streaked appropriately with gray, smooth olive toned skin, and dark-brown eyes that Angelina found to be quite captivating. Estelle was a no-nonsense, blunt, lady with a heart of gold, if you could put up with her public facade of dignity and propriety long enough. She would proudly declare that she was a former witness of the dark arts and dare anyone to judge her on her past faults, no one would. Estelle carried the Montague name with pride, hosting several charities and opening many buildings in the name of her dearly departed husband, Courtland who died defending Voldemort. The irony of it all never failed to amuse Angelina.

"She sent Miles a letter informing him that she would home soon from Moscow," Angelina replied, refusing to meet her husband's eye.

Julius sighed loudly, he could feel the tension surrounding them and mentally slapped himself for being the cause of it. "Honestly, Angelina, what is the matter?"

"Tell me," she inquired, finally meeting his stare, the pain obvious in her eyes, "what would you do if you were in my place? What would you do if your husband made you look like a fool? What would you do your husband made your entire life seem worthless?"

"Oh, Angelina," he sighed, his green eyes clouding over, "I'm such a fool."

Angelina stood quickly, while she bit her bottom lip to will away the tears, and pulled on her gloves in such a way that would have made her mother and mother-in-law proud. "You're a fool that I loved, Julius Montague."

Julius round his desk quickly and took hold to her arm, his eyes crying out to her as she stood stoically, her entire body trembling with emotion. "You're trembling."

She pulled her arm from his grasp and replied softly, as she walked out the door, "I will be all right."

* * *

"She's no use to me anymore," Ernie Macmillan laughed as he watched Gwendolyn scurry around Dean's kitchen, trying to fix him something for lunch.

Dean chuckled softly, a vision of Marietta doing the same thing over taking his senses. Marietta and Gwendolyn had gotten on so well and it was no wonder since they both had this way of becoming the mother of any group. Marietta would pamper him accordingly when he got caught up with a painting and wouldn't rest, she would stay up with him many nights until the painting came out perfect. It was a love that Dean could never imagine replacing.

"She just couldn't stay away," he said, as he watched Ernie's hazel eyes followed his sisters petite frame around the kitchen.

"Gwendolyn is a devoted woman," Ernie remarked, with a tad bit of pride.

"She's a muggle, you know," Dean reminded him, trying to evoke a reaction, trying to see where Ernie stood when it came to her.

"I knew this when we got involved but she blends in with this world so well," he answered, a faint smile sitting upon his lips.

There was something about his countenance that reminded Dean of his own past. "If that's how you feel, Ernie, what's keeping you from claiming her as your own?"

Ernie finally looked away from Gwendolyn and down at his hands. "Have you ever felt something so strongly but wasn't sure how the second party felt?"

"Only once, Ernie." Dean chuckled. "But if you knew what I know now, you wouldn't hesitate another moment."

Ernie frowned slightly as he looked over at the dark-skinned man. "What do you know now?"

"Well, you know how honesty needs a little plus," Dean began, raising an eyebrow, "well sometimes fate needs a little push because the end of the story could be a few chapters sooner than you thought."

"That's just it, when?" Ernie whispered, sitting back in his chair and wringing his hands.

"There's no better time than the present."

* * *

"You dance like a prince," Susan said as the two sat in a small café enjoying their lunch break.

Adrian smirked proudly. "It's a trait my mother swears came solely from my father's blood."

Susan pushed her chocolate colored hair behind her ear with a smile. "He must be a grand dancer."

"He was," Adrian replied, softly, staring down into his glass. Although their loyalties ultimately lay in different corners, Adrian still revered and loved the memory of his father and was forever humbled by witnessing his death.

"The war?" Susan questioned simply, understanding completely, those were days she wished she could forget.

Adrian nodded simply, his eyes still searching his glass for some unseen thing, he rarely showed blatant emotion but the death of his father was an exception. "Marcelo Pucey was an old-fashioned man, and believed dress robes were appropriate at all times and that you could never work hard enough. Father didn't hate muggles or anything like that, he followed Voldemort out of fear, a fear of losing the society that he knew so well. He could out Waltz a million wizards without breaking a sweat, which is why so many ladies adored him, and one could never tell, in passing, the evil he allowed himself to fall into."

"His death strikes a cord in you, I see," she whispered watching his blue eyes finally look up at her after moments of drowning in his glass.

"I was there," Adrian whispered, looking her in the eye, his pain touching her deeply, "I witnessed him give everything for a cause he wasn't so sure he even believed in."

"Oh, Adrian," Susan whispered, reaching across the table to take his hand in her eyes, her eyes lined with tears.

Adrian frowned for a moment before continuing, his emotions jumbling around in his mind. "He was a great wizard but even great wizards can make human mistakes."

"If it makes it any easier," she began as she squeezed his hand, "at least he escaped that mess and didn't end up in Azkaban."

"True," Adrian replied, nodding his head as he tried to push the emotional moment away, "it may not have been so easy for him to be pardoned as it was Pansy's father."

"I'm sure it still hurts something fierce, though," Susan remarked as he began to smile again, his blue eyes settled on her intently.

"You know," he began, changing the subject, "you have the most beautiful eyes."

"Thank you." She blushed, struggling not to look away.

"You should never close them," Adrian commented, seriously, his trademark smirk ever-present.

"Adrian," Susan argued, glancing away from his perfect face, an innocent smile appearing upon her lips.

He chuckled heartily, kissing the base of her palm before whispering. "That smile is going to be my end."


	4. December 15

Title: It's Christmas

Chapter: 4

Author name: Khaila

Category: Romance

Sub Category: Drama

Keywords: Christmas Blaise Hermione Draco Harry

Rating: PG-13

Spoilers: SS/PS, CoS, PoA, GoF

Summary: Follow six couples during the Christmas Season. SHAMELESS HOLIDAY FLUFF

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author notes: I found a sight that helps with British Slang terms so excuse the term 'firtled' and 'daft' as my exploration of the sight. This was inspired by the motion picture "Love Actually" Staring Hugh Grant and Colin Firth. Couples include B/HR, H/G, AJ/M, DT/OC, AP/SB.

* * *

**"It's Christmas"**

**Chapter 4 - December 15**

"Three days until the big day," Blaise said in a chipper tone, as he kissed the top of Hermione's head.

Hermione turned around in her chair to smile at him. "My dear Blaise, I dare say, you are as daft as a brush!"

"Nah." he replied, shaking his head as he threw himself onto the couch. "I'm just excited."

"So that's why you firtled about all evening in the kitchen without preparing either of us dinner?" Hermione asked, leaving her work for the first time that evening to join her husband on the couch.

"That's exactly why," Blaise replied, grinning at her like a kid in a candy store.

"Well," she sighed as she leaned into his chest, "I can't blame you, I'm almost just as excited about Christmas."

"Draco says he's coming for dinner on my birthday, says he is quite obliged to see me become a bit older before he does," Blaise said as he propped his feet up on the coffee table, normally this would have drove Hermione crazy but her mind was elsewhere.

"Really?" she whispered, the vision of his cold eyes haunting her, she just couldn't understand why he seemed to hate her so.

Blaise nodded an answer looking down at the scar that made a perfect letter "s" on his left forearm. "I was rather enthused by his blatant insults today, shows his mood is improving. Lately his mind has been on the war, with his father returning home and all."

Hermione swallowed loudly, Lucius Malfoy had been returned to the confines of Malfoy Manor a broken man. It was common knowledge that he'd finally been Kissed and was devoid of any happiness, he rarely -- if ever -- spoke, he was like a patient, he barely ate, he never left his room, and he rarely had visitors. It had come as somewhat of a shock to Draco, who could vividly remember the imposing, virile, and graceful man he had grown up admiring.

"He hasn't been himself," she said quietly, before adding, "well, yes he has been _himself_, just not the one I'm fond of."

Blaise draped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close, smelling the scent of the perfume he bought straight from Milan just for her. "Can I tell you a secret?"

"Of course," Hermione giggled, as his proximity threw her out of her reverie, "I'm your wife you are supposed to tell me secrets."

"Sure I am," he chuckled, rolling his eyes as she reached up to grasp the hand that rested on her chest.

"Come on, stop teasing, Blaise," she whined, the playfulness in her voice being something she only showed her husband. She loved Blaise more than she thought she could ever love anyone and it made it so much easier to let her guard down and be the girl she was outside of the prim and proper Granger everyone knew.

"All right," he chuckled as he kissed her cheek quickly, "all right, I'll tell you what I know."

"Come on, come on," Hermione prodded, reminding herself of Lavender Brown when someone had some delectable piece of gossip.

"I think my best mate has found the scariest thing in the world," Blaise whispered into her ear as if someone else could hear them.

"Who? Draco or Theodore?" she whispered, her eyes as wide as saucers.

"Certainly not Theo, he's way too wrapped up in that job of his," he replied with a shake of his head, sending his raven curls into a graceful sway.

"So," Hermione began slowly, turning her head to look into his eyes, "Draco's found what again?"

"Love," Blaise exclaimed as he kissed the tip of her nose, "the greatest, scariest, most confusing thing in the world!"

"Draco?" she whispered, confused, what she had seen last week did not seem like a man in love. "He's in love? Are you sure?"

"Yes, yes, yes, woman," he laughed, searching her confused expression, "I'm sure, he's showing all the signs: short tempered, completely too thoughtful to be a Malfoy, restless, and showing signs of self-inflicted isolation."

Hermione balked at his words, her eyebrow raised. "Those are Slytherin signs right?"

"Shut it, Zabini," he chuckled, "you just have to know Draco like I know him to see it."

* * *

"So where are you spending Christmas this year?" Ginny asked as they browsed an enchanted appliance shop called, _Madam Blooms Boom Shop_.

Harry stopped at a whistling broom and looked back at her. "I enjoyed my Christmas in Sri Lanka last year."

"Harry," she began as she sat down a pair of knives that seemed to be sharpening themselves, "we missed you these last couple of Christmas's, mum is always going on about how you need a proper time and such. Do you think Luna would like the congested day-planner?"

"They sell those here?" Harry asked looking over at the small, sniffling, planner in Ginny's hand. "It sounds like the flu more than a cold to me."

"Mmm," Ginny hummed as she sat it down, "I'd rather not give her the flu for Christmas."

"I'm sure she'd love that," Harry chuckled thinking of the rather eccentric young woman, "but her suggestion of spending Christmas in the mountains of Siberia was pretty good."

"You didn't?" she almost yelled, sounding more like Molly Weasley than she would like to admit. "You went to Siberia instead of coming to the Burrow? How could you?"

Harry chuckled softly at her anger. "I needed to see myself and my family for who we really are without Voldemort, the scar, and the big-time Auror position."

Ginny placed her hand on her hip and pursed her lips. "So you run on the day where you are supposed to be with your _family _and for five years in a row no less? We, the Weasley's, have always been your family! From the moment we met you we loved you and we will _always_ be your family! You couldn't believe the worry that consumed mum, I thought we'd lost you!"

He grinned at her slip, she didn't even realize that she'd said it. His green eyes lingered on her wayward wavy locks and the completely emotional look in her eye and he realized his real reason for running on Christmas. He knew who he was, there was no denying who he was after seven years of discovering it, and there was no question who his parents were, it wasn't even a real question anymore, it all left one reason and it was her.

Harry had been running from Christmas because of her, it started five years ago when she was so hopelessly devoted to that Baddock fellow and he wasn't prepared to watch them snuggle on Christmas so he did what he thought was best -- and what Hermione thought was so unlike him -- he ran. First there was Argentina, he loved plains and the beach; then there was the Bahamas, with the white Beaches and constant sun; then Siberia, with the beautiful snow and clear blue skies; then Jordan, he fell in love with the people and their ways; and finally there was Sri Lanka, something about the isolated island felt right, every Christmas was more different and lonelier than the last, until this one.

"But this year," Harry began as he crossed the space between them in seconds and placed his hands on each side of her face, "I'm spending Christmas with you."

She sighed, a content, yet apologetic, smile appearing from her emotional outburst. "Oh, Harry! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry, my temper has run off without me thinking again."

"It's your strange temperament that has kept me hypnotized," he joked as he leaned in to kiss her.

* * *

"Ron," Pansy sighed as she continued to cut up onions for the salad she was preparing, wondering why she didn't just let the utensils do it themselves, Ron had been driving her crazy all afternoon and she didn't .

"It's supposed to be a huge get together, everyone -- who is anyone -- will be there! I'm sure even _your_ mother will insist on being there," Ron said as he sat on the island in the middle of the Kitchen. He had been trying his best to make her agree to accompany him to the Ministry's Christmas Ball on the evening of the 25th.

"I'm sure she will, Ronald," she agreed, as she wiped her hands on the apron Mrs. Weasley had given her as a house warming gift when she had bought her own flat, "but I don't know about --"

"Going with me," he interrupted with a snarl, this was starting to cut him deeper than he'd thought. "Pansy, am I still too poor and my family too ill reputed for you?"

"Ron, it's not about that," she sighed, this argument was sounding familiar to her.

"Pansy can I ask you one favor?" Ron asked as he jumped off the island with a red face.

Pansy sat the knife down as she breathed deeply and answered, "Yea, anything."

"Just this once," he growled as he glared at her, the pain obvious in his tone, "_prove_ you love me."

"I do love you," she whispered, as he walked out of the kitchen.

"Prove it," Ron demanded as he picked up his coat and did exactly as she did a few days ago.

Pansy squeezed her eyes shut, her breathing became ragged as she turned and placed her hands on the sink and hung her head, the tears fell at a rapid rate. For the first time in months she cried, the wails escaping her lips were the truest testament to what she was going through. A ragged whisper slipped off her tongue, "I do love you, Ron, I do."

* * *

Estelle Montague sat on the sofa with her back straight and her hand holding a wine glass in the most graceful way. Her long black hair was swept up in the neatest bun and her lips were set in such a thin line that they reminded Angelina of Professor McGonagall. She had been back in London for less than four days and the tension in the Montague Manor was close to suffocating her.

"So he," Estelle began, her words clear and yet she was having trouble speaking, "has been intimate with that horrid Greengrass child?"

"Yes but Julius has done all but confessed!" Angelina exclaimed as she halted her nervous pacing in front of the fire place.

Estelle glared at her with motherly disdain. "Do not be silly, Angelina. A woman can tell when a man looks into her eyes and sees someone else, never distrust your instincts."

"Oh, Estelle, we were happy for so long," Angelina cried as she turned to her mother-in-law with a thoroughly pained expression, one that was a prelude to a bout of tears.

Estelle sat her glass on the cherry-wood table beside her as she spoke. "Cortland and I were just as happy when he made the same mistake. Cortland, for all his virtues, was a selfish man. He liked everything to go his way, to be exactly as he liked it, and for no one around him to disagree with him on anything he said. He was like that his entire life and I'm sorry to say all of my boys have inherited this horrible trait. And with that knowledge I realized that selfishness must always be forgiven because there is no hope for a cure."

"That is a tall order to fill, Estelle," Angelina replied softly as she sat on the couch opposite the older witch.

"I know it is, Angelina," said Estelle with more softness than Angelina had ever heard from her. "Just as my mother-in-law, Helene Montague, told me years and years ago: if this family is to survive, it is going to have to be through you."

"Estelle," Angelina politely argued, "you are this family's foundation."

"But one day you will be the pillar holding this great name up, you, not my other daughters-in-law, it _will _be you," Estelle retorted, her painfully straight posture giving the comment a definite tone.

Angelina had always known she was Estelle's favorite but she never realized that would mean she would inherit all of her mother-in-law's charities and foundations.

She was speechless as Estelle spoke again. "Dear, you have to remember that love is not perfect -- even when you've been hurt and humiliated -- love is just love."

Angelina could not meet her eyes as she whispered, "My mother used to say that."

"She was a wise woman," Estelle replied softly, knowing it was a touchy subject. "I bet she used to tell you that the best people in your life always deserved a second chance."

Angelina's eyes snapped toward her mother-in-law and her tone was reminiscent of Estelle's. "The best person in my life is Miles and I only want to do what is best for my son."

"So did I," her mother-in-law replied with the loveliest smile on her face, "I loved my four boys with such fervor it dulled the pain. With my boys around Cortland could never destroy me and do not think my husband didn't try. With Ivan, Carlton, Bernard, and Julius by my side I fought tooth and nail for the man I loved and let me tell you, as you must know by now, I do not lose."

"But Cortland died by _His_ side," Angelina retorted, confused, thinking of the well publicized story of the Montague patriarch dying valiantly defending his master.

"There are some decisions in your life that you _have_ to face the repercussions for but don't let that technicality fool you, Angelina, he was the most devoted husband after everything. After we got through the storms, Angelina, you could not have found a better husband or father." Estelle spoke with a dreamy look on her face as memories began to flood her mind.

"Oh," Angelina sighed loudly, the situation giving her a gigantic headache.

"He loves you, Angelina, he really does. If any man ever loved a woman forever, so my son would do for you," said Estelle sincerely.

"I love him, too," Angelina replied with a determined face, "and there's no way I'm gonna give him up to some socialite, purebred, whore!"

"That's what I like to hear, you are a Montague woman, just as she should be," she smirked, knowingly, "and remember that which does not kill us always makes us stronger."

* * *

Gwendolyn sighed loudly, placing her hands on her hips and doing an excellent imitation of her mother. "Dean, it'll do you good to go to this! You'll get out of the house, see some old friends, and open your mind to the suggestion of a new bond."

Dean glared openly at his sister. "Careful, I don't think she's warm enough!"

Ernie winced at the venom in Dean's voice. He had been the reason for the argument, he had invited Gwendolyn to the Ministry's Christmas Ball and she, in turn, thought it would be a good idea for Dean to go. "Dean, she didn't mean it like that."

"Oh, bloody hell, give her time to settle in the damn ground before you push me into another relationship!" he yelled. His eyes were a shocking shade of red and his lips were trembling worse than Gwen ever remembered them doing.

"Dean," she spoke softly, moving to squat beside her older brother's chair, "if you go, if you socialize, and meet a woman even, it doesn't mean you loved Marietta Edwards any less. She was the love of your life, your soul-mate and your wife and no one, or anything, can change that."

"Gwen, I just cannot do it right now." Dean spoke slowly as if he were struggling to keep retain his control over his emotions.

"It'll be good for you! There will be plenty of Gryffindors there to keep you catching up for ages," said Ernie, with a goodhearted smile.

"How do you know what would be good for me?" Dean growled, throwing at glare at the former Hufflepuff.

"Now don't go being cross with Earnest, he's just trying to be supportive," she scolded, the smooth, mahogany, skin on her forehead creasing into a frown.

Ernie shook his head politely. "It's all right, I don't mind."

"Please," Gwen begged, placing a hand on Dean's knee, "just consider going. I know that Marietta would have wanted you to move on, make masterpieces again, and yes, Dean, yes to love again. She loved you too much to want you alone for the rest of your life."

Dean looked down at his hands that hadn't painted a single thing since his wife had died. "Fine, Gwen, I'll think about it."

* * *

"What?" Adrian asked as they strolled in his Manor's gardens, it seemed that it was the hundredth time that week yet he never tired of walking beside her. They had been strolling for all of two hours and to Adrian it felt like little more than ten minutes. But today was different, she hadn't spoken much, when she did it was scarcely up to par with her previous conversations, and she hadn't been able to look anything other than him.

"I think I'm in love with you!" Susan blurted with a horrified expression. "Oh good Merlin, now I've probably gone and scared the daylights out of you. Oh, just don't say anything."

"If I didn't say anything how do you expect to discover my feelings?" Adrian asked with an amused expression.

"I didn't think you had any feelings to confess, I see you aren't blurting them everywhere," said Susan blushing a red that rivaled that of Ron Weasley's hair.

Adrian smirked, something he did quite often, but this time it was meant for her. "I may have lost my heart but I have yet to lose my self-control."

She glared at him, her mind not yet registering the entire sentence. "What are you insinuating?"

"Nothing," he replied, his smirk not yet gone. "Only you, Susan Amelia Bones, can miss the most important part of a sentence."

"What are you talking about?" Susan asked, clearly confused.

Adrian stopped in his tracks and wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her toward him until they were mere inches from each other. "Susan, you have created sensations which my heart has never known before."

She shook her head, her hair swaying slightly as it tickled his hands. "Please, don't feel obligated to say such things."

"I don't feel obligated, it's a not thing a Pucey would do to a lady," he replied, his voice in a whisper and his eyes sitting intently upon her countenance.

"Please, stop, Adrian. You are so charming and old worldly that I'm afraid you may actually end in convincing yourself," Susan remarked as he gazed upon her and wondered what it would be like to kiss her.

Adrian chuckled. "Susan, you're killing me! What do I have to do to make you believe me?"

"Kiss me," she whispered, running her fingers through his blond locks, "because kissing is the most intimate thing you can do."

Adrian pulled her closer to him, touching her lips to his for the first time, electricity seemed to run between then, she kissed him back with such urgency that Adrian had an urge to take her right where they stood. But after he regained his sensible mind Adrian traced her bottom lip with his tongue before pulling away, completely breathless.

Susan placed her fingers on her swollen, red, lips. "I believe you."

He stared into her brown eyes, his blue piercing her brown until neither could let go. Adrian broke the comfortable silence as he said, "I think I shall marry you one day."

"Why?" she asked with a small frown as his fingers became entangled in her hair.

"So I can kiss you whenever I want," he said with a smirk.


	5. December 24

Title: It's Christmas

Chapter: 5

Author name: Khaila

Category: Romance

Sub Category: Drama

Keywords: Christmas Blaise Hermione Draco Harry

Rating: PG-13

Spoilers: SS/PS, CoS, PoA, GoF

Summary: Follow six couples during the Christmas Season.

SHAMELESS HOLIDAY FLUFF

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author notes: To answer this question early: No, Pansy is not really Gideon's daughter. "But for now, let me say, without hope or agenda, just because it's Christmas (and at Christmas you tell the truth), to me, you are perfect, and my wasted heart will love you, " - a direct quote from "Love Actually". AHH! Thanks to my Beta and my reviewers! One more chapter I believe! This was inspired by the motion picture "Love Actually" Staring Hugh Grant and Colin Firth. Couples include B/HR, H/G, AJ/M, DT/OC, AP/SB.

* * *

**"It's Christmas"**

**Chapter 5 - December 24**

Hermione laughed as the door bell rang and she ran out their bedroom to answer it, leaving a frustrated Blaise behind. "Please just find something suitable to wear!"

"Fine, but if I die from lack of exercise I'm coming back to haunt you!" he yelled from their bedroom.

"Oh, I promise you won't die," she called back as she straightened her ruffled hair and blouse.

She opened the door, still laughing, to find a very serious Draco Malfoy standing there. "Draco --"

He interrupted her with a whisper. "I need to talk to you but don't tell Blaise I'm here."

Hermione nodded and thought quickly, signaling for him to wait one moment. She went and grabbed her coat and called to Blaise, "Blaise, it's old Mrs. Deavoreax, from upstairs, she needs some help with charming her packages up the stairs. I'm going to go help, I'll be back in a minute!"

"Hurry back," Blaise whined as he threw another pair of dress robes on the floor, "I'm dying here!"

"I will," she replied as she put on her coat and began walking out of the door, "and shut up!"

Draco watched Hermione intently as she closed the door softly and they began walking down the hall. He spoke suddenly as they began their descent down the stairs, "Where can we talk?"

"Just outside the building," she replied as they reached the bottom floor, "you can't see the entrance from our flat."

Draco opened the door for her silently and they positioned themselves to the right of the door, that they had just exited, so people could still walk in and out of the building while they talked. The tension was thick between them, Hermione attempted to read his eyes or expression but for the first time in her life she couldn't comprehend what she read.

"So," Hermione whispered, "what did you want to talk to me about?"

"You know when you came to my office, before Blaise's birthday?" Draco asked, looking up into her eyes as the cold wind began coloring her cheeks.

"Yes," she replied, remembering how cold he was that day.

"You mentioned us not getting on as well as we used to and I'm here to admit that it's entirely my fault," he said, being more honest than he had been in years.

"No," Hermione argued, "if anything it's time's fault. Everyone changes and friendships fall apart and it's all because of time."

"Hermione, don't try to rationalize it because I know the truth and it's time for you to know it too," Draco retorted, his gray eyes locking with hers.

"The truth?" she whispered, rather apprehensively.

"Yes," said Draco as he pushed a stray hair off her face. "You know -- well I bet you don't -- but back at Hogwarts, I had something of a crush on you and it ate me to pieces our last two years."

"Well," Hermione remarked, blushingly, "it wouldn't be called 'a crush' if it was supposed to feel good."

"You're right about that," he replied as he continued, "and when you went, willingly, with me to Hogsmeade our sixth year it was amazing and I couldn't get you off my mind. But soon after you began dating my best friend and I could feel my anger rushing through my veins all the time."

"Oh, Draco," she whispered, eager to say something but her mind could come up with nothing.

"However," Draco continued with a smirk, a small dimple, that she never knew he had, appearing right beside his lips, "right before the Leaving Feast, our Seventh year, I realized that I'd rather have ninety minutes of wonderful than a lifetime of nothing special with you and I couldn't be angry with either one of you anymore. During the war, you two were . . . amazing, to say the least. To this day I can't explain it but the strength I saw in you back then still amazes me to this day."

"Draco --" Hermione tried to interject.

"No," he demanded, "let me finish. I always imagined that you saved me, and in some ways you did, but then he proposed and I was angry at you all over again. I never meant to make you feel so uncomfortable around me, that's the last thing I ever wanted to do, I just have always wanted to tell you that I loved you. And there is not much more I can say but for now, let me say, without hope or agenda, just because it's Christmas, and at Christmas you tell the truth, to me, you are perfect, and my wasted heart will love you until the day I die."

"Oh, gods, Draco," she whispered, completely speechless, her brown eyes filled with tears.

He smirked, his fingers grazed the nape of her neck as he pushed another piece of hair aside, the feel of her skin giving him chills. "I don't regret loving you, Hermione, I never will. I have no doubt about how much you love my best friend and that's why, today, it's the end, I'm giving up."

"Draco, I --" Hermione began but was interrupted again by Draco.

"Don't say anything," Draco requested as he leaned over and kissed her softly on the cheek, "have a happy Christmas, Hermione."

"Happy Christmas, Draco," she whispered softly, as he tightened his coat around him and walked away from her.

* * *

"I remember," Harry chuckled as he lounged on the couch, "how I used to be your hero."

Ginny smirked as she sat next to him. "Well, now I'm too old to be searching for a hero, nowadays I just want a man to grow old with."

Harry took a sip of hit coffee before looking at the redhead. "It's funny how this time of year I used to sit around and think about how nothing ever worked out for me."

"It's funny how, suddenly, everything worked out," she replied as she leaned over and kissed him.

Ginny gave an innocent grin before she whispered, "Do you think our love brought us together over all of the obstacles we put in it's path?"

"I believe our love is stronger than any one thing in this world," Harry replied, honestly.

"It was real, wasn't it? We were just two kids, but we really loved each other, and through all the time that has flown by since that one kiss, we still do," she remarked in a nostalgic voice.

"It was as real as real could get, Ginerva Weasley," he whispered as she leaned over and laid her head on his shoulder.

Ginny sighed in contentment, her perfectly red hair falling on his chest. "Winter must be cold for those with no warm memories."

"I hate to even think on it," Harry whispered into her hair.

She closed her eyes and relaxed into his embrace, whispering, "Who would believe that I was ten-years-old when my life began?"

"I would," Harry answered, expressing his feelings a lot easier than he ever had before, "because I was only eleven."

* * *

Pansy had been crying since Ron had walked out of her flat that day and couldn't seem to stop even as her mother tried to console her.

"Now, I'm all for crying," Joséphine whispered, as she caressed her daughter's hair, "makes your hair grow but you are starting to worry me, you have never been so weepy!"

"Mother," said Pansy as she sniffed loudly. "I'm going to lose him if I don't make a decision but I'm not ready to choose, I know I'm not."

"Are you sure you're not ready? Are you completely sure that it's not fear of a life you've never known?" Joséphine asked, as Pansy looked up at her mother's round, porcelain, face.

"At least that's what my mind tells me," Pansy replied as her mother wiped away her tears gently, "I wish my brain would explain it to my heart."

"Sometimes your heart is smarter than your brain, Pansy. Only you can decide who you will be with but your heart can let you know just how right that love is. And, obviously, whatever happened between you and that Weasley boy has given your heart a swift kick in it's arse. And, darling, in my opinion it's about time you stop caring about people who don't matter," said Joséphine with a superior smirk sitting upon her thin, red, lips.

"H-H-How do you know about Ronald and I?" she asked, her voice small and almost frightened.

"Darling," Joséphine cooed, lovingly, "I'm your mother not the village idiot."

"Mother, I'm not insinuating that you are an idiot I just didn't think you knew," Pansy explained, her blue eyes searched her mother's for any anger that could be present.

"Oh, I know, darling, I've known longer than you could ever imagine. Molly and I are good friends, I'm sure you didn't know that, we go way back to Hogwarts, she was a guest at my wedding," she replied, revealing more of her former life than she ever had to her daughter or anyone else.

"But why didn't you say something before now?" Pansy asked, rather loudly.

"Now, now, do not shout it will make you hoarse and you'll sound like your father," Joséphine directed as she patted her daughter's hand.

"If you have known as long as Ron's mother has known why didn't you come to me?" Pansy growled through her closed teeth.

"I was waiting," her mother replied simply as she averted her gaze to her pale, folded, hands that laid in her lap.

"Waiting," Pansy frowned, "for what?"

"I wanted to see if I had molded you into the woman that I will never be," Joséphine replied, taking her daughter's hand.

"Mother," Pansy whispered, confused, "you are a wonderful woman, with numerous qualities that I wish I had."

"No, no, no," she retorted, her cobalt blue eyes lined with tears, "I molded you so you would be nothing like me. I did not, and still do not, want you to make the mistake that I made years ago."

"What mistake, Mother?" Pansy asked, her mother's expression of emotion shocking her more as the moment continued on.

"A mistake that I live to regret every day of my lonely life," Joséphine whispered softly, as if she were afraid someone would hear her. "The biggest mistake of my life was the day I let Gideon Prewett walk out of my life."

"Who is Gideon Prewett?" Pansy asked, her curiosity peaked by the tears that fell down her mother's face.

"Molly Weasley's oldest brother, the man I loved, and one of the best wizards killed by Voldemort," she replied, looking up at Pansy, her eyes begging her to do what was right.

"The man you loved?" Pansy asked, thoroughly confused.

"I won't treat you like some insolent child, Pansy," Joséphine said, strongly, "it's rather obvious that your father and I got married because we had to. If I had my choice, all those years ago, my dear I don't think it would be legal for you to be dating your _father's_ nephew."

"Everything could have been so different," Pansy mumbled, shocked and surprised by the true nature of her mother's feelings.

"But things are not any different than they are at this very moment," Joséphine said quickly. "I'm begging you, Pansy, do not become who I am. Gideon loved me with every fiber of his being but I, the one who was so caught up by appearance, couldn't bear to turn my back on my family nor my connections. So I was stupid, I told him I refused to marry him and kept a stiff upper lip as he walked away and I have lived to regret it every day since."

"Oh, Mother," Pansy whispered as she wiped a tear from her mother's cheek, "you have never forgotten him, have you?"

"You never forget the only person that you have ever really known," she replied, squeezing her eyes shut, "do not be a fool, Pansy. Do not let Ronald Weasley get away from you, ever."

"But --" she began but was quickly interrupted by her mother.

"No buts," Joséphine demanded, as she pulled Pansy into a rare hug, "go to him, do whatever he asks, love him, adore him, just do not let go of him. I never saw the love of my life alive after that day, he and his brother were murdered just two weeks afterward and I was left, alone, to grieve in silence."

As Pansy pulled away and looked down at her teary-eyed mother she asked, "You've never told anyone, have you?"

"No, darling," she whispered, a small smile appearing from the clouds in her eyes, "I keep it to myself so that he will survive and for him my heart will always be a deep ocean of secrets. "

* * *

"Tell me," Angelina whispered as she stared at her husband through the mirror on her vanity table, her thick tresses spilling down her shoulders, "was it just sex or was it something else, something greater?"

Julius turned to her as he buttoned his pajama top, his green eyes sweeping over her curvy frame and the tan, silk, nightgown that made her mahogany skin glow. "It was just sex, I don't love her, I never have."

She sat the brush on the table with a forlorn sigh. "Is that supposed to make me feel any better?"

"No, Angelina," he sighed as finished the last buttons on his top with a loud sigh, "I know there is nothing I could say that could make you feel better . . . although, I wish there was."

"There are no words that could ever ease this pain," Angelina whispered as she looked at his reflection in the mirror, "you have made the life we lead foolish and there is nothing you can say to make it better."

Julius nodded, running his fingers through his thick black hair. "I am completely aware of that but I refuse to divorce you."

"I'm not willing to divorce you, Julius, though I've thought about it more times than you could ever know," she replied as she began tying her hair up in a loose bun.

"How?" he whispered softly as he slowly approached her vanity. "How can you do that?"

Angelina turned to him for the first time since she had sat at her vanity. "I can do that because I love you. I love you, I love our son, and I love our family and that's more important to me than a stupid mistake. I've decided to choose us, Julius, I choose what we have."

"You'll never know how much I appreciate that choice," Julius replied as he leaned on the tall, cherry-wood, post on their bed.

"I'm doing it for purely selfish reasons, Julius," she said as she stood and made her way to her side of the bed.

"Well," he sighed as he followed her to the other side of their colossal bed, "I'm still thankful for it."

Julius stood right in front of her as she sat on the edge of the bed with her eyes looking down at the button at the top of his pajamas. He looked over her slowly, taking in her smooth skin, her long lashes, and the gentle roundness of her supple breasts; his breath got caught in his throat as he watched the gentle rise and fall of her chest as her breathing became ragged, Julius could remember a time when their proximity to each other would have ignited a passion that could rival all things but, sadly, he could only feel a dull tremor of what used to be.

Julius slowly reached his around her head and pulled, slowly, at the lone chopstick that held her bun in place and sighed slowly as her thick, black, hair came flowing down her shoulders. The moment he ran his fingers through her hair she choked back a sob. "Oh, dear gods, I wish I could hate you!"

"Hate me," he whispered as he tangled his fingers in her soft hair, "please, hate me if it makes the wound in your heart heal."

"Julius," she cried softly as she looked up at him, "sometimes you make it so impossible to love you."

"I'm sorry," Julius mumbled as he leaned in and kissed the top of her forehead, he could feel the fire ignite and his heart rate began to increase.

"But then you make it so damn impossible not to love you," Angelina continued as his lips continued to make their way around her face, lips, and nose.

"I want this to be over," he said as he cupped her face with his hands, "I want my marriage back, all I want to be is yours."

She stared up into his green eyes a few moments before she whispered, "I hurt, Julius, love me, please, love me."

"Darling, you didn't have to have to ask twice," he whispered as he gently picked her up off the edge of the bed and gently laid her in the middle.

* * *

Dean sighed, loudly, as he finally closed the blinds, cutting off his constant view of the snow. The snow was starting to make him hallucinate because all he could see was Marietta for miles and it was starting to frighten him. "God, I miss her."

"I know," came a soft, masculine, reply from the other side of the room.

Dean jumped as Seamus entered the living room and sat down, Dean sat in a chair opposite him with a frown. "Why don't you learn knock, Seamus?"

He shrugged with a smirk. "Why learn to lock when it is always unlocked?"

Dean nodded, looking down at his thin, brown, fingers, trying to shrug off the tension between them. Well, it wasn't tension so much as uneasiness between best friends. "I thought you were in Bulgaria with that Ulga woman?"

"Nah," Seamus replied, shaking off the thought of his last fling, "I came home for Christmas after we spent an uneventful weekend watching all her ex-boyfriends play Quidditch."

"Uneventful?" Dean questioned, thinking of the spontaneous, blond, rail-thin, Ulga.

"I kind of got tired of her and her lack of respect toward monogamy," Seamus answered with a shrug.

Dean laughed heartily. "Have you seen a healer for that yet?"

Seamus watched the smile slip from Dean's face quicker than he'd ever seen one fade on anyone. He had been on a business trip when Marietta was buried and returned to find only a shell of the man he had known so well and as he sat, silently, he realized that the man that sat before him was only a dressed-up shell of the Dean Thomas that he'd grown up with.

"We all know my love life is in a bit of a hole," Seamus said, taking on a face of seriousness, that he rarely displayed, "tell me, how are you holding up?"

Dean glared at him, with everything but contempt. "How would you hold up if the only woman you ever loved died?"

"Dean," Seamus sighed, as leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees and laced his fingers together, "I've never been in love before but Lavender always told me that's it's possible to love a thousand times in one lifetime, so I'm not so sure that Marietta will be the last woman to steal your heart."

"If love is so easy to come by then why are you here and not with Lavender?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow, "It is the night before Christmas and you aren't with the first woman you ever loved."

Seamus looked down at his hands, silently, it was no secret between the two that Lavender Brown was the only woman that could slow the, well-known, playboy down. Somehow they had avoided dating though they kept in touch and Dean swore that Seamus was so scared of committing that he would miss his chance and Lavender would run off with someone else.

"Lavender, is spending Christmas with Terry Boot in Cartagena but enough about me, I wanted to discuss you."

"She's in Spain with that Boot fellow and you are sitting here with me," Dean retorted, his face contorted in a frown, "I think, mate, that you are terribly misguided."

"What are you going to do about your love life?" Seamus asked quickly, hoping that Dean would leave the sensitive subject of Lavender and Terry Boot behind.

Dean looked decidedly contemplative before looking over at his friend, with a smirk. "I'm going to the Ministry Ball tomorrow, that's what I'm going to do. So what are you going to do?"

* * *

"I was so scared I almost cried," Susan exclaimed as she reached across the table to pick up her wine glass.

"If you were scared why did you go through with it?" Adrian asked, honestly interested in her tale of her childhood misadventures.

"I'm a Bones, that's why," she replied simply giving him a small look, "plus, the things you are afraid of are usually the most worthwhile."

"True," Adrian nodded as he cut his steak with ease.

Susan groaned softly, which caught his attention immediately. "What?" he asked.

"You just reminded me of my Uncle Philip, he's the only person in the world that can answer everything in three words or less," Susan replied, with a chuckle, as she dabbed the corners of her mouth with her napkin.

"Really?" he inquired, raising his eyebrows.

"Yes," she replied as she glared at him, "I've never heard him explain anything but once my entire life and that ended with a grunt!"

The live band began playing a soft, melodic, tune with just enough piano solos in it to pique Susan's interest. Ever since she was a child, and she had sat on her Aunt's lap and listened to their charmed Grand Piano play every tune imaginable, she had been in love with the instrument and it didn't help that she the song seemed to getting longer as the moments went by.

"Let's dance," Susan suggested, excitedly, remembering the amazing dancer she experienced a few weekends before.

"Why not," Adrian mumbled as he stood, rounded the table and pulled out her chair for her, and then directed her to the floor.

Adrian placed one arm around her waist, laced their fingers together, and then brought their intertwined hands close to his chest. As their bodies glided, smoothly, around the floor Adrian could do nothing but stare into her brown eyes, hypnotized as her perfume invaded his senses. They both moved in step with the music yet never looked away from one another, they could feel the electricity pass between them and Adrian bent down to kiss her lips softly.

When he pulled away she smiled, as they continued to dance. "You, apparently, are a lot like your father."

Adrian chuckled as he, gently, held her out for a dip and brought her back quickly. "I must say I learned from the best."

"We _must_ dance like this tomorrow night," said Susan, the excitement glowing in her brown eyes as her navy blue dress-robes fluttered along behind them.

"If it makes you happy," he whispered as the song ended beautifully and they released each other, "I'll dance like this every night for the rest of my life."

She grinned at him as he led her back to the table and stared into her eyes expectantly. "It would make me immensely happy," she whispered.

"That smile means that there is no hope for me or my legs," Adrian smirked as she blushed and looked away.

"You make me remember what it was like to be a nine-year-old, wrapped in a blanket, and staring out the window on Christmas Eve, daydreaming," Susan replied softly, as the waiter came and whisked the dishes right off the table.

"Really?" he asked, raising a questioning yet, seemingly, charming, eyebrow.

"You make me remember the fairy tale I used to dream up in my head," she whispered as she looked down at her tanned fingers, wondering why he -- this former Slytherin, son of a Death Eater -- had this effect on her.

Adrian was quiet a moment before she looked up at him and he asked, "Do you mind if I tried to give you that fairy tale?"

"No," Susan answered, her voice soft and delicate, as he reached across the table to take her hand, "I still want my fairy tale to come true."


	6. December 25 The End

Title: It's Christmas  
Chapter: 6  
Author name: Khaila  
Category: Romance  
Sub Category: Drama  
Keywords: Christmas Blaise Hermione Draco Harry  
Rating: PG-13  
Spoilers: SS/PS, CoS, PoA, GoF  
Summary: **COMPLETE** Follow six couples during the Christmas Season.

SHAMELESS HOLIDAY FLUFF  
DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
Author notes: This is it, this is the end! Thanks to everyone who read! Thanks to my Beta and my reviewers! This was inspired by the motion picture "Love Actually" Staring Hugh Grant and Colin Firth. Couples include B/HR, H/G, AJ/M, DT/OC, AP/SB. And to those who don't like the AP/SB ending, I'm sorry, they are my Sarah/Karl from 'Love Actually' so I had to do it. But hey it's happier than Sarah's and Karl's ending!

* * *

"It's Christmas"

Chapter 6 - December 25

Hermione tried her best to seem as though she was not searching the red and silver decked hall for some unforseen entity, but she was. The Ministry's Annual Christmas ball was in full swing and you could barely separate the decorations from the guests as silver and red dress robes fluttered all about, somehow making the Wizards in their customary black dress robes seem little more than background fixtures. Hermione was wearing a fitting red robe, lined in silver, with a small red pocketbook and her hair curled tight and piled on her head. She couldn't contain her nervous searching because the conversation she had with Draco continued to fly through her head.

"Here you are, darling," Blaise announced as he returned with a glass of wine and the blond that been the source of Hermione's distraction.

Hermione took the drink before Draco reached for her hand, kissed it softly and whispered, "Merry Christmas, Hermione."

"Merry Christmas, Draco," she replied, softly searching his eyes for something she had seen the night before but she could find nothing of the sort.

"It seems," Blaise said, jovially, "that Mister Malfoy, here, has lost his date."

"Date?" Hermione questioned aloud, more toward Draco than Blaise and couldn't help feeling relieved that he wasn't alone.

"Yes," Draco replied as he turned from her watchful gaze and looking out into the well dressed crowd, "Parvati Patil, she's wearing a silver dress, damn it."

Hermione couldn't help but chuckle at the frustration present on his face but all laughter, on her part, was cut short when Blaise said, "Draco, here, has always had a thing for those Gryffindor women."

"Well," Hermione sputtered, obviously uncomfortable, "Parvati was always the prettiest Gryffindor of our year."

"I beg to differ, my dear," Blaise whispered as he softly kissed her temple, completely missing the smirk that Draco threw her, at which she couldn't help but giggle.

"You know," Draco announced, while he continued to squint over at a table across the room, "I think I've found her."

"Good luck getting to her, mate," Blaise laughed, patting him good-naturedly on the back as Draco took leave of them.

Something about the absolute disregard Draco seemed to have for their conversation the night before settled Hermione's chaotic emotions. She knew he wasn't over her. However, the process was beginning and possibly by next Christmas he'd be as happy as she was. She watched his retreating form with a small smile, her heart hopeful that the spoiled prat -- that grew into an amazing man -- would love another woman with the same intensity that he had loved her with.

Her heart threw a final goodbye to him as she turned to her husband. "Let's dance."

Blaise took her hand and led her to the floor, wrapping his arm around her waist, pulling her close, lacing their fingers together, while he rested his cheek against her head. "Happy Christmas, darling."

"Happy Christmas," Hermione whispered, laying her head upon his shoulder.

"I know you love him," Blaise whispered suddenly, feeling her body stiffen yet he continued to move, "but I know he loved you differently than you ever loved him."

"Blaise," she began, holding on to her tall, strong, husband, "there are as many forms of love as there are moments in time and I didn't know he loved me until it was much too late and I loved you more than I could ever love him."

"I know," he replied, guiding her smoothly around the floor to the soft sounds of the band.

"You don't know," Hermione argued gently, "I can feel it in the way you hold me. But let me assure you, my love, that I'm not in love with him."

"How can you be so sure?" Blaise asked, glancing up at the enchanted ceiling that appeared to be sending down snow upon their heads.

"How could I be in love with Draco when I'm totally heartbrokenly smitten with his best friend?" she asked as Blaise kissed her hair.

"I love you, Mrs. Zabini." he beamed, looking down at her.

"I love you more, Mr. Zabini," Hermione replied looking up into his perfect, dark, blue eyes.

* * *

Ginny laughed heartily as Harry pulled her up from a dip and held her closer than he had before. Ginny looked stunning in her designer silver robes -- she refused to wear red for fear it would clash with her hair -- with her long wavy locks hanging down her back. She had been smiling the entire night and couldn't keep her hands off the virile man that was having a dizzying effect on her.

"You know," she began, looking up into Harry's green eyes, "mum was all wrong, you don't look anything like your father."

Molly Weasley had spent at least five minutes, after they had arrived, babbling on about how much Harry looked like James. Harry smirked at her, raising a questioning eyebrow. "Now that's a first."

"In my opinion, at this very moment," Ginny whispered, admiring the messy black locks and emerald green eyes that he donned daily, "you look nothing like your father. At this very moment, a moment I wouldn't change for all the Galleons in Gringotts, you look like Harry Potter, the man I love."

"I'm glad to hear that, Ginerva, it'd be rather morbid if you were in love with my father," Harry chuckled, as their bodies molded into one and glided around the floor.

"Gross, Potter, gross," Ginny remarked as she began to glance around the packed Hall, "it's so nice to see people you used to see everyday school together again, years later."

"Yea," he remarked, looking around at familiar and unfamiliar faces, "it brings back memories."

"Hermione looks beautiful," she said as her eyes noticed the brunette witch dancing with her husband.

"She reminds me of how she looked at the Yule Ball." Harry smiled as Blaise leaned down to kiss the shorter witch.

"Ron told me she was a knock out," Ginny said as she continued to glance around the room, "oh, look, there's Dean Thomas."

"I didn't imagine that he'd venture out tonight since Marietta died a little over a month ago," said Harry while he watched Dean talk to a woman who looked a little like him and another wizard, Ernie Macmillian.

"I'm glad he's getting out of the house," remarked Ginny as Harry began to twirl her around the floor.

"Marry me, Ginny," he whispered suddenly, as he slowed and peered into her blue eyes.

"Are you proposing just because it's Christmas and the atmosphere couldn't get any better, Mr. Potter, or are you proposing out of the complete sincerity of your heart?" she asked, seriously, her eyes searching his countenance for any semblance of laughter.

"I'm _proposing_ because I've loved you since I was eleven and it just won't go away," Harry replied, bending his head slightly to kiss her softly.

"So," Ginny began, glancing up into his emerald eyes, "how about I answer your question?"

"Now, that would be a Christmas present above all others," he retorted, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

"My present to you, Harry J. Potter, is yes. Yes, I will marry you," she answered as they stopped dancing suddenly and Harry pulled her into his arms with a gleeful chuckle.

* * *

Ronald Weasley stood next to the table that Harry and Ginny had just vacated, nursing a glass of wine and broken heart. For the first time in his life he looked like those Purebred wizards that had graced the Society pages of the Daily Prophet after every ball and for the first time he felt like he was an equal in his brand-new, tailored to fit only him, dress robes. He watched all the faces that he had grown-up with, at times feeling completely beneath them, and for the first time in his life he felt as though he could compete. Yet his moment of personal victory was dampened by the absence of the one and only, Pansy Parkinson.

He looked around the hall, picking out every woman who seemed similar to Pansy and wished for a miracle, after all it was Christmas. Out of nowhere came a soft-tap on his shoulder, which caused him to turn suddenly to find the object of his affection standing before him, in a perfect silver robe with her hair in a bun with a few pieces hanging down her face, looking to him as if she was a guardian angel.

Pansy stared at him a moment, her blue eyes questioning him silently, as she asked, "Am I too late to prove it?"

"You're stunning," he whispered, throwing her a lopsided smile as she took his hand.

"I guess I'm not too late." she smiled, giving his hand a squeeze.

"Pans," Ron whispered, looking down for a moment, his level-headed state of mind coming a lot easier than normal, "I spent yesterday with Dad and he made me realize I was wrong for asking you to prove what I already knew to be true. So, I apologize for how juvenile I made our relationship seem the other day."

Pansy was stunned at the mature man that stood before her, never had she heard her hotheaded boyfriend sound so levelheaded. "No, don't apologize to me. I was the one in the wrong. I've been with you for almost a decade and I couldn't stop being scared long enough to declare to the world that you are the only man for me."

Ron blushed at her words and caught the eye of an imposing man watching their every move. "You do know Xavier Parkinson is watching us, don't you?"

"You ask me to prove something to you," she said, determined, placing her dainty hands on her hips, "and ballocks to everyone else because I'm going to show you that I love you, Ronald, if I have to die trying."

"Are you sure?" he asked as he pulled her into a tender embrace, her perfume invading his senses.

"I refuse to lose you, Ron, I refuse to," Pansy whispered into his chest as his big, strong, hands roamed her back.

"Pans," Ron whispered, pulling away from her alittle, so he could look into her eyes, "I know you love me, you don't have to do anything you don't want to do."

"No, Ronald, you don't understand," she exclaimed, her eyes more clear than he'd ever seen them, "you are my air and I don't want to screw up the best thing in my life because I'm alittle frightened of the nonsense that was my life for so long!"

Ron was left speechless even as Pansy's parent's, along with his parents on the other side of the hall, continued to watch them, he had never heard Pansy speak so plainly about him. "I don't know what to say, Pansy."

"Don't say anything," she replied, kissing him quickly, "just listen to me, Ronald. I found out last night that true love, the kind that I think we have, lasts a lifetime and I can't live with the regret if I turn my back on it. I won't let her down, I won't, and I refuse to let myself down either."

"I love you, Pansy Priscilla Parkinson," he whispered as he leaned in to give her a slow, sensual, kiss, "even when you babble on about things I know nothing about."

"You asked for a favor, Ronald," Pansy smiled, as she played with the hair on the nape of his neck, "and like a true friend, I came through."

* * *

Angelina Montague instantly locked eyes with her mother-in-law as she patiently followed her husband -- arms linked -- as he mingled with fellow bigwigs of the industry. She fought to suppress the lingering embarrassment and doubt that struggled to destroy her brave facade. Even as she laughed at her husband's colleagues awful jokes and endless compliments she couldn't help but wonder why she would endure this public humiliation.

Even Estelle couldn't deny the whispers and constant staring that followed the well-known couple, more people seem to know about her predicament than she could have ever imagined; however, she realized that her husband had slept with one of the biggest publicity whores in the entire world, there wasn't much Daphne Greengrass wouldn't do to get attention.

As Julius bid his colleagues goodbye, she whispered through gritted teeth the only prayer she could remember her grandmother saying when she was a little girl, "God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference."

Angelina wasn't even quite sure it was a prayer but it always served her grandmother as adequate and it would do for her. Her litany continued softly as Julius looked down at her with concern. "Are you feeling all right, darling?"

"I'm fine, life couldn't get any better at this very moment," she mumbled, sarcastically, as they made their way through the crowd.

Suddenly Julius stopped cold and pulled her into his arms and began moving them with the music. Her thick, wavy, hair swayed softly as he wrapped his arms around her waist and she laid a hand on his chest, peering up into his green eyes. "I offered you the world and at the first test of honor I betrayed your trust. For that betrayal I will never forgive myself, darling, it's horrifying how much you can hate yourself for being low and weak."

"The question is what happens after you do forgive yourself," Angelina whispered, not yet noticing the blond, who wore a tight red robes, who had been watching them since they had arrived.

Julius watched her intently as he guided their movements with the music that surrounded him. Then, out of nowhere, he spoke excitedly, "How about we go somewhere and sort all of this out? We could let Miles go with mother to France and we could find some secluded place to work out our problems."

She frowned at him and scoffed, "How are we going to sort things out, Julius? Are you going to make up excuses and I'm going to debate over whether I should believe them or not?"

"No," he countered sincerely, as their movements halted suddenly, "I'll tell you everything and can you tell me exactly whatever the hell you want to tell me and maybe, just maybe, we can get through all the lies that kill other marriages."

"Are you really going to be honest with me?" Angelina asked softly, for the first time noticing the figure that continued to watch them.

"Angelina," Julius began, his back to the blond who was now glaring jealously at them, "I've loved you for years, the last thing I want to do is ruin this any more than I already have."

She gave him a small smile, nodding her head in agreement. "Well, fine, it sounds like a plan."

Julius was whispering his thanks as Angelina noticed the blond making her way toward them, a malicious look in her eye. The blond watched the couple intently as she sashayed through the crowd, her red dress robes revealing the creamy, white, skin of her shoulders and thighs, the dress bordering on inappropriate. Slowly she reached out to touch Julius' arm as she finally reached the couple, her voice husky as she whispered, "Happy Christmas, Julius."

Julius sneered, as he threw her hand off of his arm, "I have no merry wishes to convey to you, Ms. Greengrass, the only words I have to say to you are words that I do not wish to say in front of my wife but you will hear them at your very on release meeting, bright and early Monday morning."

"Good day, Ms. Greengrass." Angelina smirked as Julius began to walk away from the two women, leaving Daphne stunned at his cold demeanor and his harsh reactions.

"Mrs. Montague," Daphne called, grabbing Angelina's arm before she walked away with her husband.

"This best be good," she growled, looking down at the slim fingers that were holding onto her hands, "because I'm rather tempted to break your fingers or better yet, let my husband do it."

Daphne let go of her arm as she spoke, "It's not always about love, sometimes you just need to have sex with power!"

Angelina fought the urge to slap the woman as Julius grabbed her arm, only leaving her time to whisper, "I knew that, Ms. Greengrass, my husband would never _love_ a whore like you."

"Yes," said Daphne, smirking before she turned and walked away, "but he would sleep with a whore like me."

"No," Julius commanded sternly, as he stopped Angelina from advancing on the retreating blond, "no one has the noticed the exchange and let us keep it that way."

"Ah," she growled under her breath just as Julius pulled her to his chest, "I could just strangle her."

"Yes, well, so could I but strangle her after we have left such a densely populated area," he replied as Daphne began flirting with an unsuspecting man who favored the _Daily Prophet_ photographer, Colin Creevy.

Angelina chuckled at his awful sense of humor, her brown eyes connecting with his green and she felt it, she felt their love surround them like it had the night before. Julius ran his fingers through her hair, whispering, "You are so beautiful, Angie."

"How can you do that?" she asked, her mahogany skin taking on a red tinge, as she heated up under his gaze.

"Do what?" retorted Julius as he leaned in to peck her softly on the cheek.

"Look at me, now, after everything, like you haven't seen me every day for ten years," replied Angelina, sending him a smile that reminded her of her days at Hogwarts, days with a long lost love whom she lost to the war.

"Because even when I've hurt you," he whispered, leaning in so his lips brushed her ear, "you look at me in such ways that I know haven't earned, you deserve more than what I've given."

Her eyelids fluttered, her lashes tickled his cheek, as his lips seemed to caress the sensitive skin on her ear, her heart was threatening to beat out of her chest. Angelina whispered, weakly, "So earn it."

"I plan on it," Julius replied suavely, kissing her neck gently. He was sure his mother was watching with a face full of disapproval but this was his wife and he had missed feeling so strongly about anyone.

"I want to end this mess right now," she whispered as she clung to her husband, "just let it go and just walk away."

"Well," he replied, pulling so he could look at her, "let's do it, let's just walk away from it today, on Christmas."

"Let's do it." Angelina sighed, her eyes drifting toward the blond who was now clinging to the man who resembled Colin Creevy.

"I love you," Julius replied, kissing her supple lips, "and everything that I count as important in this forsaken world is in my arms right now."

Angelina looked back at her husband, a smile gracing her lips, she knew, deep down, no matter what he may say or do her heart would always struggle to forgive him. Julius was her husband and she loved him deeply but it would always hurt. She realized that like Cortland Montague, before him, Julius would become the epitome of a good husband after this ordeal and she would just ignore the dull ache of her heart and forgive him because, like her mother-in-law pointed out, there was no cure for selfishness.

* * *

Dean watched his sister, wonderment filling her eyes as she interacted with wizards and witches as they spoke of things that she might never see. She was filled with childlike curiosity as the robes Ernie bought for her fell subtly off her shoulders creating a flash of skin that had Ernie practically salivating. Dean smirked, he hoped that she would stay in this world, a world that had become his when he just a boy; he hoped that she would share all that was magic with Ernie and never leave either of them lonely. It saddened Dean to think that her departure from this world would leave him completely lost, if not more lost, than his loss of Marietta.

"Dean," Seamus called as he approached the young man, "how are you tonight?"

"Okay," Dean replied, truthfully, for the first time in a month he was okay, "I'm honestly okay. Have you spoken to Lavender?"

"No," Seamus replied, turning to look at the redhead who was struggling to look interested in whatever Terry Boot and another man was saying, "she made it clear she's ready for commitment and it doesn't include me."

"I think she meant that she's ready for commitment _with_ you but she's not against finding another man; which, may I add, doesn't look as if it's going so well," Dean said raising his glass to the beauty, who had chosen silver robes with red stilettos and a matching purse and was beginning to glance over at the two men.

"Marietta taught you how to read women didn't she?" Seamus commented with a smirk, as Lavender took leave of the two men and began making her way over.

"Not all, I still don't get them," Dean began with a chuckle before he took a sip of his wine, "she taught me to recognize – not comprehend -- their damn complex emotions."

"Good enough for me," Seamus said just as Lavender made her way to them with a smile.

"Dean," she beamed as Dean gave a slight hug and a small peck on the cheek, "how are you doing?"

"I'm okay," Dean replied, almost tired of the question, "and yourself? You look quite stunning, Miss Brown."

"Thanks, Terry bought it as an early Christmas present," she replied, not noticing how Seamus became rigid and stiff at the mention of the obviously expensive gift, "and I'm doing all right, getting ready to start my first term as a Professor at Hogwarts next September."

"Congratulations," he said, glancing over at Seamus to at least say hello, "I'm sure you must be excited."

"Anxious is more like it," Lavender retorted with a laugh.

"Lav," Seamus began softly as she turned her attention to the six foot, Irish, man before her, "you look amazing."

"Thanks," she blushed, unlike when Dean had said the same thing.

Dean looked around the hall quickly looking for a way to leave the pair alone together. He found it in an unassuming blond that he had known from his days at Hogwarts. He gave her a small smile as their eyes connected and his tapped Seamus' arm, "All right mate, I'm going to go chat Hannah Abbott up."

Seamus nodded at his statement and Dean said goodbye to Lavender and made his way over to the table that Hannah Abbott occupied. He felt sheepish as he approached her, she wore her blond hair in tight curls and her robes were a fashionable mix of silver and red. She smiled as Dean asked, "Might I sit?"

"Yea," Hannah answered quickly, "sit down."

"So what have you been up to Miss Abbott?" Dean asked, watching her rosy cheeks breakout into a wining smile as she began to explain her occupation.

Dean thought her to be pretty, well spoken, and almost too good to be true. He thought of Marietta momentarily as their conversation deepened and he revealed his lost. She offered her sincerest condolences and for the first time in weeks another woman -- aside from his sister -- held his attention. Hannah wanted to know more about Marietta and revealed her own loss, of sorts, an American Healer that she had met on the battle field two years after leaving school stood her up at the altar. She spoke of her pain, which Dean was sympathetic to, but she also mentioned the fact that she was opened to love and Dean, though it surprised him, mentioned that he was too.

Gwendolyn watched their exchange from across the room as Ernie wrapped his arm around her waist. She smiled, whispering to the air, it seemed, "Oh, Marietta, we did it, he is going to be okay."

"With you around he has no choice but to be okay," Ernie whispered, caressing her cheek softly.

"Thanks, Earnest," she replied softly, looking up into his eyes.

"What would you do if I kissed you right now?" Ernie asked, pulling her body closer to his, her face only mere inches from his.

"Do you want to kiss me right now?" Gwendolyn retorted, her breath becoming ragged as her heart began racing.

"I wouldn't have mentioned it if I didn't," said Ernie gently, slowly cutting the inches between them before his lips met her softly. He probed her mouth gently with his tongue before pulling away and missing the heat from her body within an instant.

"Happy Christmas to us," she whispered as her head hit his broad shoulder with a schoolgirl grin.

He kissed her hair, whispering, "Happy New Year to us."

* * *

Susan giggled as Adrian twirled her around expertly, making her silver robes flare and sway around as if they were dancing also. It seemed that they had been dancing from the moment they had arrived, Adrian had been a doting companion, never once taking his eyes off of the brunette who, in his eyes, was the belle of the ball.

"I hate that this has to end," she whispered, looking up into his beautiful blue eyes with sadness.

"To end?" Adrian asked, shocked, he was not prepared for her to say something like that.

"I'm going back to Sweden on Monday," Susan explained, looking away from the man who had romanced his way into her heart, "the Minister told me Thursday that they needed me there, so, I'm going back."

"Why did you wait until tonight to tell me that this is all we have?" he asked, feeling his heartbreak, a month with her wasn't enough.

Susan looked up at the man who had charmed her, seemingly, for the greatest nights of her life and whispered, "I wanted to remember you at your best not when you are like you are now, sad and cold."

Adrian's jaw bone jumped as he looked down into her brown eyes and closed all the space between them. "Laugh when I tell you that I love you."

"No," she whispered, her brown eyes lined with tears, "don't say that, Adrian."

"Why not?" he asked, kissing her forehead as their movements become slower and more natural. "I do love you, so why not exclaim it?"

"You can't say that to me and expect my leaving to be any easier," Susan replied and laid her head on his shoulder, allowing her eyelids to fall.

"I love you, Susan Bones," Adrian whispered from his heart, letting his head rest atop hers, "and don't you ever change."

"You know," she began, her eyes never opening, as she tried to indent on her memory exactly how his arms felt around her, "I never really understood why you wanted to date me. It seemed so strange to me."

"Why?" he asked, almost not listening to her words, as he pushed every other thought from his mind.

"Because," Susan whispered, feeling the rise and fall of his chest, "you are this rich, handsome, man who has every luxury at his beck and call and I'm just . . . Susan."

"That's why," Adrian replied, giving a content sigh, "because you are just Susan."

"I don't want to leave you, Adrian, I don't," she mumbled as the first tear rolled down her cheek, "sometimes I want to be with you so much it hurts."

"If it has to end here, I'm glad it ends now," he whispered, his embrace becoming a little tighter, "you showed me what it was really like to love another person and I'll never forget it. Maybe, just maybe, if one day -- if the fates will it so -- maybe we can pick up where we left off."

Suddenly, Susan stopped moving and looked up into his eyes. He slow reached up to wipe away a lonely tear that was making its way down her cheek. She sighed loudly and whispered, "I still want my fairy tale, Adrian."

"You will have it," Adrian replied with a sad smile, taking her hand, "stay with me tonight."

Susan nodded slowly, never taking her eyes off of him, as she replied, "I just have this feeling that it won't be that easy forgetting about you and me."

Adrian said nothing as he guided her toward the exit of the hall, passing by those who were smiling and enjoying the most magical night of the year not noticing the anguish in the eyes of the couple walking past them, as they reached the doors he stopped to look at her. The house-elf brought her, her shawl and he whispered softly, "I don't want you to forget."

Susan linked her arm with his as they exited the hall, whispering to herself, "This might be the happiest Christmas of my life."

_Finis_


End file.
